With a long look, he stared into my eyes for a moment. It felt heavy, deliberate, like he wanted me to know he didn’t have any ill intentions. I couldn’t read what crossed over his face, but I didn’t freak out as he slowly leaned toward me. As he slanted closer, he lifted his arm and brought his hand to my face. Steadily, carefully, and gently. He wasn’t backhanding me. He wasn’t striking me.
All he did was cup the side of my face with a reverent, soft touch. He urged me closer as he brought his warm lips to press against my cheek.
Closing my eyes at the kiss, I wanted to savor all the goodness of the moment. The spice of his cologne as he came toward me. The body heat that rose from him and comforted me. The roughness of his callused hand that reminded me of how rugged and strong he had to be.
But most of all, that delicate brush of his lips on my skin. It seared me, spreading a heat through my veins that I didn’t want to ever stop.
I didn’t open my eyes to watch him retreat, but I felt the weight shifting on the couch as he sat back. When I blinked, seeking him out, I wasn’t surprised to find him watching me closely.
“Did that help?”
Help?It only fanned my curiosity and desire to a hotter flame.
“It did. But I…”
I don’t think that’s enough.
It can’t be.
Under the intensity of warmth in his eyes, I took another leap of faith. Reaching over to kiss him, to taste those warm lips with mine, I almost fell flush against him. Without any better way to break my momentum, I placed my hand on his chest and clumsily pushed my mouth to his. I mostly met his. I think I moved my lips.
Did that count as a kiss? Was I doing this all wrong?
He didn’t move. One hand gently braced me, set on my side. But he didn’t haul me closer. He didn’t hold me like he had when he caught me from falling in the kitchen last night.
Oh, God.
He’s not interested.
He didn’t mean it. He’s not going to kiss me or anything.
I’m doing this all wrong. I don’t knowhowto do this. To do anything!
Lowering my gaze, I felt my cheeks burn. I couldn’t bear to look at him, not this close, not when I was making a complete fool of myself.
I had to be doing this all wrong and it was stupid of me to even try. As I scrambled to get up, he kept his hand on me, as if balancing me all over again. Balance was the last thing I felt now. I was clumsy and embarrassed.
“What do you want, Kalina?” he asked, even though it was clear I was trying to bolt.
“I’m too shy to say it,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to say?—”
“Then take it.”
I went still, pausing in my attempt to stand.
“Just take whatever you want.” He set his other arm out, draping it on the back of the couch, as if opening himself up to me. “Take whatever you need.”
All I needed right now was the feel of his mouth on me again. I needed that instant thrill of not being here, knowing I was a broken, scared woman. I wanted that freedom to experience the heat of attraction with him.
Under his serious stare, I dared to believe that he meant it. Leaning back in, too weak to walk away like I knew I should, I sought his mouth again. He didn’t move much, letting me control it. Then again. I pulled back to check his face. Findinghim calm and open, not mad or expectant, I moved closer to kiss him again.
Feeling the push of his mouth against mine as he kissed me back was all I needed. I didn’t want orders or instructions. No commands. But I relished his guidance. As he slowly kissed me back, as if he was trying to be gentle, he gave me the courage to really go for what I wanted.
Heat blossomed in my heart. My pussy throbbed more. Even my nipples ached, hidden behind my pajamas. Just kissing this rugged hero woke me up like I’dneverbeen before.
As he kissed me back, lifting his hand so he could frame my head and guide me to angle mine for a deeper kiss, I floated on the dangerously perfect thrill.
This was wrong. But so right. I was being too bold, daring to want a man or to touch him at all. He was too sweet, so patient and letting me have all the power.
